A trip to Dakar with observations

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Dear Family and Friends

My trip to Dakar was quite eventful. Overall was not enamored with Dakar. It was big, dusty, dirty, busy, angry city. It was amazing to see hallmarks of western civilization in Africa though. There were high-rises, fancy cars, rich business men, paved streets and side walks etc. However, Dakar, much to my peers disappointment, had not yet truly submitted to western Capitalism, one last vestige of Africa was holding out. No McDonalds. It is amazing how many people from west, when asked what their first meal will be back is McDonalds, or a variant thereof. What drew me to Dakar were two things, a potential job interview and the Ile de Goree.

I apologize for my lack of interest in the Ile de Goree, when you spend thousands of hours studying a topic, like Colonial Slavery your obsession either increases or burns out. My obsession is a pile of ash that I poke with a stick occasionally. I know that the museum’s statistic that 12-16 million African Americans were exported to the New World is an old estimate, most historians like the number of 9 million, or that African city states were complicit and beneficial trading partners in the slave trade. I know that the first slaves were bought in 1441 and brought to Lisbon, Portugal. I know that the etymology of the world slave comes from the Slavic people, who up until 1453, the fall of Constantinople, were the preferred slaves for Italian city states. The victory of the Turks cut off Mediterranean Europe from their traditional slave supply and they looked elsewhere for their demand. Thus between a half dozen of colonial powers the Ile de Goree was set up to hold and sell slaves in terrible unspeakable conditions to European slavers bound for Early Modern death camps known as plantations in the New World. I have read this all and more. For being a walking encyclopedia on slavery and its debates I was largely uninterested in the island’s history. Ah the joy of being jaded.

Anywho, this did not stop me from enjoying the Ile de Goree. It is a world class exceptional tourist trap. Beautiful colonial buildings overlooking crystal clear water. Bright colors, great food, cheap beer, all of it I was trying to soak up. Sat by a bar and drank beer for much of the afternoon. Wandered the town’s streets and alleys, meandered through the fortifications; a conglomeration dating from various historical epochs, and the highlight was swimming off the rocks in the delightfully warm clear water. After an eventful day we all looked forward to an equally exciting night…
So Saturday night, we were on the prowl looking for nightlife in downtown Dakar. We, not knowing jack from shit about the city quickly got lost. In our odyssey for a good time we heard the siren calls of heavy bass. Not knowing what we were hearing we flocked to the noise and found some posh, swanky and expensive bars. We were thirsty from our ordeal, ordered a drink, sat down, and realized that there were a disproportionate number of extremely good looking local women, a small minority of well dressed Senegalese men, with a substantial group of middle aged white men engaged in intimate relations with the over abundance of the scantily glad population from the first category. At first, I naively thought well this is quite odd, why does that father looking like man caressing the women’s very well defined rear that was barely concealed by a mini skirt, who realistically could be his daughter. I thought that was rather inappropriate, and why would a young, sexy, successful Senegalese female enjoy an overweight, corpulent, old white mans attention. I mentioned this contradiction to one of my friends, who in turn looked at me and said. “Jan, she is a prostitute, almost all the girls here are….”

Ahh, my primitive brain was starting to understand. This explained why the normally elusive Senegalese women were giving me suggestive eye winks and being overall quiet friendly with me, which stood in stark contrast to the normal frosty aloofness that I am habituated with.

It turns out the sirens call deceived us, and in reality the suggestive music was not a happening place but rather the vicious harpy of Dakar’s red light district. Being two white guys and girls, all under the age of 25 and rather grungy looking, not your traditional cliental. As you can imagine we stood out like sore thumbs and felt equally out of place. Fortunately there was no shortage of taxis, who were indiscriminant to their cliental, albeit probably some what surprised to find our company in that quarter.

As I alluded to before, Senegalese women are generally not very approachable. In Saint-Louis the vast majority of my interaction with the opposite sex is with the safely married and has children category. Generally, these are your friendly, good humored, often times boisterous Senegalese house wives who are the backbone and life blood of the Senegalese economy and society. In Senegal, conversations follow a traditional, hello, often the Arabic Salaam Malikium, than how are you etc, and hand shakes all round. With all male company this is easy because I, being a man, can shake all their hands without trampling over any social or cultural mores. However, for many married women, touching other non family member men, under any circumstances is considered polluting and a serious social faux pas. Thus, around women, as a man, I have learnt to never offer my hand in greetings unless the woman offers hers.

Now Senegalese society is rather patriarchal, and most often chauvinistic. Men are allowed to have multiple wives, are not discouraged from pursing women relentlessly, or from what I have determined to have premarital sex. How sexuality has been constructed, in our minds as well as theirs is quite fascinating. Men in Senegal will doggedly propose marriage to every single, non married white woman that they meet. They are without fear in their determined effort to gain almost holy access to “femme blanche.” Now this continuous barrage of marriage proposals and profusions of love actually aggravates most of my female colleagues. None-the-less, for every 10 or 100 soldiers that gets gunned down, one makes it through the blasted no mans lands littered with corpses that defends a white woman’s heart. You see it is a very popular trend for white women to find Senegalese boyfriends. Apparently over 60% of volunteers to Africa are women, which in my personal experience here in Senegal I can vouch for. These waves of young female Caucasians flocking to Africa I think in a sense feminizes the continent in many ways regarding colonialism and enfantilization of the region. White women, regardless of their looks, or weight have been fetishized in the minds of local men. Caucasian women’s hallowed white flesh and Western passports become the focal point of dance floors in bars. I would argue that the eroticization of women in terms of Post-Colonialism reflects African men assertion of their independence and power over their former oppressors by screwing their women.

The popularity of this phenomenon has made me several times state that chasing white women is a national sport that almost all able bodied grown men partake in. Alternatively it also neatly justifies the phenomenon of male prostitution. In Saint-Louis it is not uncommon to see extremely good looking charismatic local men fawning over middle aged white women at bars. These patrons offer economic benefits as well as an escape from the vicious cycle of African poverty in their passport. While the opposite does happen, in the gender norms of Senegal it is not ok for unescorted, pious, Senegalese women to be throwing themselves at white men’s feet. There are examples of Senegalese women married to western men, but prevalence of this is much lower. Furthermore, when locals ask me if I have a Senegalese wife, they are surprised I do not have one and than astonished when I tell them I have no idea how to approach one. These men then inform me that if I want they can introduce me to every one of their single female relatives. They also confide in me that if I take a wife I should leave open the option to take another, that way she will always live in fear that one day I will bring home another wife. What a lovely society. In conclusion in Saint-Louis it appears to me that the contact with the elusive Senegalese women has to be traditionally brokered with the supervision of a male family member, kind of like cattle, an observation that is not taken well by local men.

Ok, so back to Dakar. I had my interview on Friday, which was more me interviewing the organization. In short it looks like this is a place where I could work with. However, I have a few dilemmas but also pleasant coincidences. First is work in St. Louis is really picking up, thus I am enjoying myself. My work with the Talibe is getting to a stage that I have put some effort in and would like to see a product of my work. However, Lees and Jeorie are planning on moving out of Saint-Louis proper in January to some property 20 km out of town which may conveniently coincide with moving to Dakar.
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I am good, at the moment this country is going insane with Tabaski, which is Senegal’s version of Christmas, known in French as the “Fete de Mouton” or Arabic Eid al-Adha, where each family is to sacrifice a sheep. Next week I will update will cover these cultural event

Hope all is well with you

Love
Jan

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Photos

Boboo pants
this was a failed photo but it still works

Comments

[mamadou]

salam malekoum bro